Whirlwinds Of Time Poem by Patti Masterman

We are the animals with a human face;
Our ancestors far away now, but we are still young-
In the totality of things, a hairless breed of upstarts.

We even named ourselves as being somehow different
from other creatures; better, higher, more evolved-
Though maybe we are more freak
Than maverick, more opportunist than genius.

The mammal in us is still very apparent, the brute barely hidden.
And if temporaneity is our hobnail, all these words of mine
Are only random noise in the whirlwinds of time.